


November

by suzunofuu



Category: Inazuma Eleven, Inazuma Eleven: Ares no Tenbin, Inazuma Eleven: Orion no Kokuin
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 08:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14351607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzunofuu/pseuds/suzunofuu
Summary: A short scene that could take place a pair of years after my wip has finished.





	November

He doesn’t know why he keeps doing this. It’s one of those habits one can’t get rid of, one of those things that keep coming back to you even when you don’t want them anymore, even when you think you’re over them.

Suzuno doesn’t know why he keeps getting affected every year around these dates, doesn’t know why he needs his feet suspended off his balcony late at night when no one can see him leaning towards the void, when no one could be there if he were to push himself forwards and, consequently, down.

He doesn’t know how November can still pull him under as if it had put a spell on him when he was young, one he cannot get rid of even as much as he has tried. Truth is that it doesn’t matter how much he tries to forget what happened on these days, he can’t get that one memory –the one that’s made him the way he is, the one that broke every damn side and edge he’s ever had– out of his mind. Years have passed since he was a distancing, cold kid with no willing to see a future, but the first of November gets him back, maybe for a week, maybe for a month, to that mind place where he is nothing nor no one, where all he sees is the shadow of the person he most loved moving from side to side on the wall, and all he hears is his own mind asking why, why, why now?

The wind blows soft and cold, touching his bare neck and arms as if it were welcoming him back. His hands grip the edge of the balcony and his body bends further, eyes searching the pavement four floors below him. He imagines his head hitting it and tightens his fingers where they are holding himself. He doesn’t want to fall, but the wish to do so is tempting. Irrational, unwanted, unwelcome, but tempting.

Haruya finds him at 3am, covered in his blanket and looking knackered, purple surrounding his bloodshot eyes. He’s quick to mentally prepare to face the situation before him, but not quick enough for Suzuno to not notice his presence. Suzuno turns his head towards him momentarily, only to ask: “How long have you been there?”, for him to answer, “A minute, maybe,” and he’s back staring ahead as if he were alone.

Nagumo takes another minute to ask, “do you want me to leave?”, knowing that Suzuno would rather be alone in a hard time like this, and also letting him know that he’s not going to go even if he asks him to.

Luckily, Suzuno doesn’t tell him to go away. “No.”

Nagumo takes the chance and steps right behind him, arms surrounding him as if he were a belt when the only thing he is is scared. He knows Suzuno would never jump, they’ve gone through this situation many times before and he understands why Suzuno ever feels the need to put himself at risk even if only for a brief second. He knows Suzuno’s motives even if he doesn’t approve them, even if he despises the fact that he needs the danger to feel safe, that he needs to break to pull himself back together.

He holds him a little bit tighter, wants him to stop leaning forward and to stop staring at the ground below.

They don’t usually talk when Suzuno gets like this. Nagumo knows better than to push him into opening up – that’s something that never came with him, something he never learnt to do and hasn’t, yet. It took him years to let him know he could trust in him if he ever needed to, that no matter what kind of baggage he was carrying he’d be there to help him live with it, that he’d never judge any of it. They’ve gone a long way to be where they are right now, and even if he knows Suzuno will talk to him if he needs to, there’s a heavy lacking in his chest provoked by Suzuno’s struggling impossibility to say what he’s thinking. He wishes he could just say whatever’s in his mind. He wishes he knew how to help him better than to just stand there by his side, gripping at him because he doesn’t nor can’t know if he’s okay or not.

They stay in silence for half an hour, getting colder and colder and feeling sleepier as the time passes.

Nagumo presses his forehead to Suzuno’s shoulder and closes his eyes, fatigued. His arms get loose around Suzuno, who turns his head towards him and smirks fondly.

“Go back inside,” he incites, voice soothing.

Nagumo shakes his head. “’m okay.”

“You’re tired, get back in bed.”

Nagumo tightens his grip around his belly and presses his face against his neck, stubborn. “I’m not letting you fucking fall off, thank you very much.”

Suzuno’s smirk drops imperceptibly. His body stops leaning forward, stops reaching out for the emptiness before him, and presses back against Nagumo’s torso, allowing him to fully embrace and hold him. He lets his head rest against Nagumo’s when he presses his chin on his shoulder, fists laying on his chest and stomach so the blanket covers them both. Suzuno pulls it up to his neck.

“I hate that I miss her,” he admits at last, the picture of his mother hanging off the ceiling and swaying calmly from side to side very vivid and very terrorizing. It’s starred some of his worst nightmares and haunted him at the worst times.

His hand shakes a little as the memory grows inside him, occupying every space in his mind and cracking his fragile emotional stability. He’s getting there, to that point of hopelessness and dread where he can’t process what’s happening, where he disassociates and time stops being coherent, where the only thing he has is this bitter rancor breaching him from his core and clouding every form of defense mechanism he has developed along the years.

Nagumo takes his hand before that happens. He stops the unyielding hurricanes that were about to slaughter him, and reminds him to breathe. He squeezes Nagumo’s hand as he does.

It isn’t until some minutes later, when Nagumo’s warmth has substituted the breaching coldness of his memories and has eclipsed his mind, that he turns his body, passes a leg to the other side of the balcony and loops an arm around Nagumo’s neck, face coming to rest on his hair. Nagumo gets the hint and kisses his neck, finds the leg that’s still handing off the balcony and surrounds his back to hoist him off and pull him to his feet. Suzuno lets him – gives him the freeness to boss his body around even when Nagumo is a hundred times more tired than he is. Nagumo never complains about having to look after him, because Suzuno rarely gives him the opportunity to do so. Not every day he needs the comfort he needs right now. Fortunately, November only happens once a year.

Nagumo embraces him again, sleepy but decided, pressing a warm kiss to his cheek. “Feel any better?”

Suzuno wants to let him know he always makes him feel better. No matter what, when or where, Nagumo’s mere presence is enough to cut the threads of his negative thinking and pull him back on his feet. Instead, he presses a kiss to Nagumo’s lips and mutters, “yeah.”

They go back inside and get in bed, willing to drift off to sleep. Suzuno doesn’t need to worry about his mind coming back to his mother’s memory, at least not for tonight. He’s calm now. He only needed to process the venom that consumes him whenever he remembers her.

He rests his head on the pillow and moves closer to Nagumo, so close that Nagumo has to readjust and press his chin to the top of his head, arms surrounding him. They kiss again, this time sweeter, sluggish. “Thank you,” he whispers against his mouth. One day he’ll be able to tell Nagumo more than thank you for saving him over and over and over again throughout the years even when he insisted on pushing him away. Today is not that day, and even if he wants to tell him much more than a simple thank you, his gratitude makes Nagumo’s heart flutter contentedly.

He sighs when Nagumo’s fingers start messing with his hair; tugging, coiling and knotting playfully. He’s tired and it shows, but Nagumo doesn’t let himself fall asleep until Suzuno does. Once Suzuno’s breathing has slowed and his muscles have relaxed, Nagumo stops prohibiting his brain of shutting off and, yearning for his boy to feel better in the morning, falls sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr: @suzunofuu


End file.
